


Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit

by SmileySimmo



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmileySimmo/pseuds/SmileySimmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not exactly the kind of saint she'd learnt about as a little girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He'll be out soon. Any time now.

Quinn waits by the school entrance and stares down the empty main hallway, looking for any signs of her boyfriend. Prom had officially ended at midnight and thirty minutes later he has still not made an appearance. She didn't see where Coach Sylvester had taken him – maybe she still has him in her office. Quinn had already waved goodbye to several couples when they left; she had even managed to give Kurt a polite if slightly forced smile as he walked out with Blaine, crown sitting firmly on his head.

She glances at her phone, he hasn't even replied to her texts. She isn't in the mood to drink and celebrate but if Finn takes any longer, they'll be late to the after parties. Not to mention the idea of being deserted at school at night gives her the chills. She looks out at the parking lot, barely a few cars remain. She prays that the only reason she can't see his truck is because it's too dark outside.

He wouldn't just _leave_ her.

"Princess Grace, alone?" she hears a voice say from behind her. Quinn spins round in fear, only to come face to face with Jesse St. James.

After taking a few seconds to calm herself, she speaks in a cold and spiteful manner. "What are _you_ doing here?"

He walks forward until he's standing next to her and lets out a long sigh. "I _was_ waiting for Rachel, but she's just informed me that she left with Sam and Mercedes long ago," he says holding up the phone in his hand. She knows. Rachel had been fishing for another conversation too, but there was no way Quinn was going down that road again so soon. "How come you're still around? After the way everything's gone for you I would've thought you'd want to give your mouth breather boyfriend a piece of your mind."

"Have you seen Finn?" she asks, ignoring his former statement.

"Not since he decided to revert back to being a five year old. This – " he gingerly touches the swelling on his face "– is not going to be good for me." Quinn lets out a shaky breath and turns away as tears begin to blur her vision.

He left her.

She blinks a few times before composing herself for the second time that night; she is not going to cry in front of Jesse. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him walk down the front steps; he pauses halfway down and turns around. "So are you coming or are you just going to stand there all night?"

"What?"

He rolls his eyes. "You have no ride, I have a car. Let's go," he says gesturing to the car park behind him.

"I am not going _anywhere_ with you," she sneers. She knows her bitchiness is uncalled for since his night has been ruined just as much as hers, but at that moment Jesse is the only person within striking range and it feels good to lash out.

"Then how exactly do you expect to leave?" he asks, folding his arms.

She turns around and looks down the empty hallway again. "I'm sure someone's still here, I can wait."

"It's almost one and I doubt any of your sexually frustrated and alcohol deprived associates stuck around to help...clean up." A mildly amused grin graces his features.

"The teachers are here. I could always ask Mr. Schue."

He merely raises his eyebrows and gives her a look of pity – she can sense he's judging her and it only serves to make her angrier. "You're acting like a child Quinn."

"Just go okay, I don't need you to do me any favours," she says hatefully before turning her back on him. She doesn't really know why she's being so stubborn and callous. In all seriousness, he's the best option she has right now and she should be thankful he is even offering. Whatever. After a few seconds she looks over her shoulder, fully expecting him to still be standing there ready to continue convincing her. To her surprise, he's already walking away into the dark car park and her jaw drops in disbelief when he doesn't turn around.

Not even to make a smartass comment.

She tries glaring at the brown curls that bounce on the back of his head, willing him to stop. When she hears him start the engine, she begins to panic again. She sifts through her clutch, quickly considering all the remaining possibilities she has left. Last year when she was pregnant, she could've had Puck driving out to her in a heartbeat. This year? Not so much. Santana and Brittany are probably too drunk to even find their phones by now. Finn is still not answering her.

Sure the teachers are probably still at school and she's confident Mr. Schuester won't refuse, but asking him would be beyond pathetic and she won't be able to live down the embarrassment of having to be taken home by a teacher. She cringes as she realises that the only person she has left to call is in fact her mother. Frankly she prefers the teacher idea; she won't have to owe Mr. Schuester an explanation as to why she's failed at something yet again.

Her breathing quickens as she searches through the numbers on her phone and she can feel the tears sting her eyes again; she's trying to fight it but if she cries now, at least she won't break in front of her mother. She's about to press dial when she hears a car approach her. She looks up and sees a Range Rover with none other than Jesse in the driver's seat. He rolls down the passenger side window. "Get in the car Quinn," he says with an exasperated look.

She shuts her eyes and silently admits defeat before holding up her dress and making her way to his car. She yanks open the door and throws her clutch bag onto the seat in frustration. Quinn refuses to make eye contact with him as she ungracefully attempts to get into the seat of a car that is way too high off the ground and she can't help but scowl even more when she hears him laugh softly. It's only when he starts driving that he speaks again. "So where am I taking you?"

"Home I guess," she shrugs and stares into the distance.

"And I'm supposed to know where that is?"

"You've been to Rachel's house right? I live pretty close to there," she replies moodily. She hopes her mother is asleep, that way she'd be able to sneak in and head up to her room without having to tell her why she's suddenly decided not to 'sleep over at Santana's house.'

Quinn glances at Jesse as subtly as she can; he's right, the swelling under his eye is pretty bad and may even bruise. He turns his head towards her ever so slightly and she doesn't know why but she quickly looks away. "Why does that crown matter so much to you anyway?" he asks finally breaking the silence between them.

She wants to defend herself, to give him all the reasons as to why a piece of cheap plastic has been haunting her dreams for the past few months, but somehow she just...can't. She settles for saying, "You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe. Or...I'd understand perfectly. I don't think any of your glee _clubbers_ know what it's like to fall so spectacularly short of your goals," he says offhandedly. She glares at him as he speaks; annoyed that she's effectively being compared to a college dropout. "In a way you're right; why you chose to feel so strongly about something like becoming prom queen _is_ beyond me.

"Shut up – this is all _your_ fault," she snaps. It's annoying that someone who, for all extensive purposes is a stranger, is making an attempt to empathise and she isn't about to let him continue.

"And yet _I'm_ the one taking you home because your _boyfriend_ realised he felt like playing with another toy." He continues staring at the road straight ahead but she notices his jaw tenses as he speaks. "Come on Quinn I hit on you, right in front of him, but he was too hung up on what happened to Rachel _last year_."

"You being here ruined everything," she fires back. "You being here made Finn think he was still in love with Rachel. Tonight Finn and I should've had our photo together wearing those crowns – instead I ended up taking my photo _alone_."

"In which case I did you a favour; you, of all people, don't need that giant dumbass taking up three quarters of the frame."

"We were fine before you showed up," she mumbles.

He barks out a laugh. "For your sake, I really hope you're not blonde enough to believe that."

She doesn't – nothing can rationalise what Finn's done. Quinn looks at the corsage on her wrist. When Finn told her that he had purposely picked a ribbon that matched her eyes, she had thought that for one night they could put everything that they were going through behind them and just be in love.

' _You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.'_

The words had echoed through her mind the entire time she was dancing with Finn, but her beauty couldn't stop him from eyefucking Rachel right in front of her.

Quinn picks at the knot around her wrist and when it won't come loose she tugs it angrily, causing the ribbon to snap. She lowers the window and flings it outside the car, watching as several white petals come loose. "You can get rid of this too while you're at it," he says suddenly, pulling out the flower that's pinned onto his tux and handing it to her. It's a pretty shade of pink and she wonders if he had specifically picked it out to match Rachel's dress. It seems like something Jesse would do. Something a boy would do if he really loved someone. She obliges and throws it outside as well before rolling up the window and leaning back into the seat.

They continue to drive in silence and to top off the disaster of a night she's having, it's starting to drizzle. "So what're you going to do now?" she asks, watching the rivulets of water run down the window.

He shrugs. "Rachel and I are meant to be stars, and I'm going to make sure that happens."

She grimaces as yet again, everything leads back to Berry. "I meant tonight actually, what are you going to do tonight?"

"Oh –head to my uncle's place and drink until I can't remember how many theatres are currently open on Broadway. Care to join me?" he asks, giving her a weary smile.

She shakes her head, although that kind of drinking sounds very appealing. If anything, her mother won't be able to make a case to stop her. "How are you going to help Rachel?" she asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Well I thought of it at that sad excuse for an Italian restaurant everyone here seems to love, and honestly I think it's a pretty good idea. I'm going to become a show choir consultant and The New Directions is my first client," he says with a self-satisfied look.

She's not really sure what to make of that, so she busies herself with taking out her earrings instead. When he reaches her neighbourhood, she gives him directions and soon he's parked outside her house. The lights inside are off, that's a good sign. She sighs and sinks deeper into his leather seat, thinking of what to say to her mother. "It seems like you don't really want to go Quinn," he says quietly, facing away from her.

And maybe he's right. As insane as it sounds she'd much rather spend the rest of the night driving with Jesse than face Judy but the rain is getting heavier and she's far too exhausted to suggest otherwise. She opens the door and is once more reminded of the ridiculous height of his car.

"Need some help?"

"No." Her feet ache, partly because of the heels and partly because of the fact that Finn had been so busy staring at Rachel he had managed to step on her toes multiple times. She'd even been nice enough not to snap at him for it.

Fuck this; she isn't going to risk a sprained ankle as well. She slips off her shoes and throws them onto the pavement before jumping out of the Range Rover. She picks up the stilettos and purse and walks around to the driver's side.

"Jesse I – was being unfair before," she admits as she looks into his tired eyes, hoping that that serves as enough of an apology.

"Yes you were."

So much for a 'that's okay, so was I.' She takes a breath so that she won't say something she doesn't mean because she just doesn't have it in her to get angry again. "Do you...wanna come inside and get some ice for that?" she asks, pointing to his cheek.

He nods and moves to get out of the car as well. She unceremoniously walks straight through her lawn barefoot, knowing that bits of wet grass and mud are going to stain her dress but at that moment she can't bring herself to care. Judy can nag her about it tomorrow. Jesse on the other hand, specifically avoids the lawn, choosing to make a big arc around until he finds the concrete path leading to her door.

As she looks for her house keys she can't help but smile a little.


	2. Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit Chapter 2

Quinn slowly pushes open the door, trying to keep the creaking to a minimum. She tiptoes inside and motions for to Jesse to follow her, gently dropping her heels in the hallway. She turns on the kitchen lights before making her way to the freezer to look for the icepack. Jesse leans against the counter next to her and shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. The icepacks are stuck together and she lays them in the sink next to him, trying to pry them apart.

"Quinnie?"

Shit.

She turns around and looks her mother in the eyes. "Yes?"

"What're you doing here sweetie? Aren't you staying with Santana?" Judy asks, standing in the doorway.

"Change of plans," she says flatly, putting on the poker face she almost always uses when talking to her mother.

"Well come on then, where is it Miss Prom Queen? Show me your crown," Judy says with a beaming smile on her face.

Quinn swallows but the lump in throat won't go away. "I didn't get it." She maintains eye contact with her and notices how her mother's smile falters slightly.

"But I thought you said you and Finn were –"

"Somebody must've stuffed the ballot boxes," she interrupts turning back around to face the sink. She casts a sideways glance at Jesse, who raises his eyebrow at her. Technically she isn't lying. Thankfully he stays quiet.

"And who is this?" Judy asks. Quinn recognises this tone, the sweet voice she uses when she's trying to hide what she's really thinking.

"This is Jesse; he gave me a ride back from school. Jesse – meet my mother Judy," Quinn explains without turning around, her gaze fixed firmly on the icepacks that are slowly thawing in front of her.

Jesse nods to the older woman with a polite but brief smile.

"Where's Finn?"

"Oh he had to go home, he wasn't feeling very well. Must've been the punch," she says nonchalantly. She's gotten very good at deflecting her mother's persistent questioning over the years and it's almost too easy to lie without fumbling even once. She's also aware that she's used an appropriate pun – it's not like Judy is creative enough to understand. She wonders if Jesse picks up on it.

"You know they really should get someone to watch the punchbowl, god knows what those kids in that school of yours are up to."

Go away. _Please._

"What happened to your face dear?"

Quinn realises her mother is now speaking to Jesse. "It's nothing, a couple of imbeciles decided to have a go at each other on the dance floor. Collateral damage," he explains smoothly. Seems like someone is just as good as she is, Quinn muses to herself.

"I don't even know what we're paying that school for anymore; I have half a mind to go talk to that Principal myself. You know they're planning to raise the fees this year?"

"You don't say..." Jesse is clearly also very good at sounding like he's engaged in conversation. Quinn barely contains her impressed grin.

"Sure we're in a recession and all, but it's not as though the quality of staff or facilities is getting any better. I seriously considered making Quinn transfer to Crawford as a junior, but I suppose now she only has one year left."

And thank god for that.

Jesse remains silent and she notices that he's now staring at her with a probing look on his face, almost like he's try to read her mind.

"Well don't just stand there Quinnie, get Jesse some ice."

Quinn jaw clenches and she grips the edge of the counter, still with her back to her mother. "That's what I was doing _mom_ ," she says, the frustration coming through in her voice.

"I'll leave you to it then." She hears Judy opening a cupboard, probably to take out a wine glass. "That's such a shame about prom queen though, who won?"

"The person with the most votes, obviously," she whispers through gritted teeth as her eyes fall shut. If her mother doesn't leave soon she's going to crack, she can feel it bubbling up in her chest.

"Alright, I can see you don't want to talk about it. Jesse it is well past Quinn's bedtime, so I hope you understand you'll have to head back home soon. " Her mother's voice fades out as she walks towards the stairs. "But I do want to see how precious you and Finn look in your photos okay? Don't worry Quinnie, we can always frame next year's ones..."

Quinn violently pulls the icepacks apart and only opens her eyes once she hears her mother's bedroom door slam shut. She lets out a long breath and turns to hand Jesse the icepack – he's still intently gazing with the same expression. "Don't," she warns, although the malice isn't directed at him.

"I wasn't going to," he replies not missing a beat. He winces softly as he presses the cold pack to his swollen skin. "You know, this is the first time I've ever been punched."

She's thankful he chooses to change the subject and she starts removing the many pins that hold up her hair in place. "Seriously? With the things you say and do I'm surprised half your face isn't falling off."

"Doesn't mean people haven't tried." He looks at her through his one good eye and gives her a crooked grin. "But my years of dance have ensured my reflexes are very sharp. It was a cheap shot; he got me when I was trying to tell Sylvester that the fight, if you could even call it that, was quite obviously not my fault."

"That's Finn, one minute he's being all Mr. Nice Guy and the next he's knocking you on your ass."

He slowly furrows his brow and turns to face her. "I was not 'knocked on my ass.' You'd think Finn would realise that people can't just hit me. Then again, he is the stupidest person I've had the misfortune of knowing."

Her damp hair falls around her shoulders and she grimaces as Jesse belittles her boyfriend. "That's too bad that you got kicked out though," she says offhandedly.

"I doubt I missed much," he scoffs, "except...the opportunity to show Grace Kelly what it's like to truly enjoy dancing. I don't think I'll ever get another chance to ask her."

She smiles half-heartedly but doesn't look at him, even though he's complimenting her, because it just reminds her of how both Finn and Jesse will always choose Rachel instead. "You can keep the ice but you should go," she says glancing towards the staircase.

"And we were just hitting it off." He runs a hand through his hair and Quinn walks him to the door, very aware of his presence behind her.

"Jesse –" She looks up at him, just as he steps out into the veranda and realises how much taller he is now that she's barefoot. "Thank you for...the ride, my mom...all that stuff." It comes out a lot meeker than she intends.

He gives her a small smile that she thinks is slightly different to his signature smug smirk. Then again, maybe she just imagines it because it's gone the next second. "I'll see you around Quinn," he says before walking to his car quickly, in an effort not to get wet.

"Yeah see ya," she mutters, more to herself than to him. As soon as he revs the engine, she shuts the door and heads for her room. She can see a stream of light coming from underneath her mother's door – so much for it being late.

It's only when she locks her door, strips off her dress and collapses on the bed, muddy feet and all, that she allows herself to cry.


	3. Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit Chapter 3

For the most part, Quinn's still in a funk from the events of last week's prom but from the time she had woken up the day after and heard all of the 34 voice messages that Finn had left on her phone, she had decided to put it behind her. She more or less accepts his explanation that he was so confused on prom night that he had gotten into his car and left without thinking. But every now and again (especially when he takes a 'secret' glance at Rachel), just to spite Finn, she gets the urge to mention, cryptically, that it was the one and only Jesse St. James who had taken her home alone and in the middle of the night.

When she sees Jesse walk into their choir room during rehearsal, it's not entirely unexpected but she's not really sure how to react; she settles for looking indifferent. Apart from Rachel and maybe Sam, she's the only one who's not trying to bore holes into his face so indifference should suffice anyway. Quinn sure as hell isn't going to start clapping and smiling like an idiot.

For his part, Jesse is wholly focused on Rachel and though his eyes do flicker towards Quinn just once, he does it so quickly that she's not even sure if he actually looks. She is sure that Finn is getting angrier by the second and it's beyond depressing that all Rachel has to do is have a _possible_ suitor to get him to react this way. Rachel's looking at Jesse with a large smile and wow, the girl really must be some kind of emotional masochist because no one else would be willing to even talk to a guy who legitimately made breakfast on her face. Or want to be friends with a girl who straight up slapped her.

She is brought out of her thoughts by Finn's declaring how amazingly wonderful his duets with Rachel's are.

"Yeah killed us. We lost," she muses out loud as she purposely looks into the distance. She doesn't know where that comes from, but it makes her feel a little better. He _knows_ how Quinn feels about his duets and yet he still has the gall to brag about them in front of her – it's only fair that he gets humiliated as well. Besides it is true; the New Directions did lose but, more importantly, Finn's duets with Rachel have been the cause of many fights during Quinn's relationship with him. She can feel Finn giving her his kicked puppy face but when she looks back at Jesse, he gives her the smallest of nods and suddenly, she can't bring herself to care.

"You kind of sing and dance like a zombie that has to poop."

Quinn twists her hands and bites her tongue hard in order to stop herself from giving Jesse any signs that she agrees with him. Sort of. If she even so much as smirks, she knows Jesse'll pick up on it and further justify his views on her relationship. Everything from the way he's looking at Finn to his blunt honesty to the the polite yet scathing inflection in his voice really is just too good but she isn't going to give him the satisfaction of being right.

After all, it was around the time of the zombie mash up that she had decided she could have Finn again and since she's technically still with him, she doesn't think it'd be good girlfriend behaviour to burst out laughing.

Behind her, Puck and Kurt clearly don't share the same concerns.

* * *

Quinn stays after glee club that day, in order to practise for the solo she's going to sing for the auditions. She half-heartedly leafs through the several sheets of music, trying to decide what would require the least amount of practise because she's pretty sure Jesse is not going to be as objective as he claims. But getting a solo on a National stage would mean that just for a few minutes everyone's eyes would be on her and in New York that had to mean something.

"Quinn, hard at work I see."

This time she places the voice instantly and on cue, she spots him coming down the stairs. "Do you always have to sneak up on me?" she asks without even bothering to look at him. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were doing it on purpose." Out of the corner of her eye she can see that now he's standing right next to her.

"It does add a certain dramatic effect doesn't it? But I think you're just not very observant."

"What, are you here to scope out Rachel's competition?" she asks, turning to look up at him and raising an eyebrow.

"Hardly. Rachel _is_ the best singer in the New Directions. But, I have to admit, I am sort of interested in hearing your voice," he explains before taking a seat next to her on the piano stool. She shifts uncomfortably at being so close to him – hasn't he heard of personal space? He leans over her shoulder in an effort to see her music, but she quickly pulls the sheets towards her chest and gives him a sly look. "Fine," he sighs exaggeratedly, "I suppose it'll give me something to look forward to amidst all the awful, predictable and awfully predictable song choices." His face sours even as he speaks of the other glee club members.

"Are you getting paid to be here?" she asks.

"No, I consider it a form of...community service."

She narrows her eyes at him but his face remains frustratingly relaxed and if anything, amused. "I'm pretty sure that apart from Rachel, you hate everybody here. I don't understand why you're putting yourself through this."

"It's not for you to understand," he says calmly, "you know if you count the fact that Sam is actually poor, then this really does count as community service. Hmm, I never thought of that before but I guess being able to add volunteerism to my list of accomplishments is a nice bonus."

He's exhausting to listen to and in order to drown him out, she begins to absent-mindedly play a melody on the piano using her right hand; it isn't long before he joins in, improvising a harmony. She resists the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes – who even does things like that? Instead she watches his fingers move over the keys gracefully; she's never been able to play like that, so freely, as though it's second nature. He seems to notice her staring because he's smirking again. "So...I see you're still with Hudson." His eyes are very much focused on the keys as he says this.

She abruptly stops playing and turns away. "If that's your attempt at being subtle –"

"Why?"

She lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Because I love him."

"Even though he doesn't really love you," he says with a disturbingly casual tone. Jesse takes over the melody as well, playing a little faster; she tries to study his face but he's giving nothing away and it's exasperating for her. She's not sure what he's trying to get at but she isn't having any of it.

"Save the judging for when I'm on stage," she snaps before standing up and walking away from him.


	4. Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit Chapter 4

Quinn arranges the things on her dressing table as Finn sits on the bed behind her. He'd given her a ride home and since Judy nearly always works late on school days, she'd asked him to stay a little longer. There's still a slight tension between them and every now and then she looks at him in her mirror and he gives her his usual goofy half-smile without any words being exchanged.

"How was your day?" she asks, finally deciding to break the silence.

"Good. Mostly. I mean I totally fell asleep during Spanish today and I think Mr. Schue saw but he didn't tell me off...that was really cool," he shrugs, "I kinda wish that they hadn't run out of chocolate milk for lunch though. How about you?"

"Fine," she says flatly, "I had a brownie today." She's not really sure what else to tell him.

"Sweet," she sees his reflection grin, "it's cool how you don't have to worry about what you eat and all that other crazy stuff Coach Sylvester made you do –" Her eyes shoot him a warning "– I mean not that you're fat, you're really pretty Quinn...and brave for quitting the Cheerios but uh – yeah never mind." He smiles again and she smiles back, if only a little stiffly.

"So have you picked a song to tryout with yet?" she asks, drawing imaginary circles on the surface of the table.

"No. I'm not singing in front of that douche. All he's gonna do is tell me I suck but using more...words." Finn angrily flops onto her bed and she hears him sigh loudly.

"Well I have, do you want to know what song?"

"You're actually going to be a part of this thing?" In the mirror, she sees that he's leaning up on his elbows, his brow furrowed at her.

"Yes," she says turning around to face him, "I think it's worth a shot, to get to do more than sway in the background. Plus we'll have someone else's opinion – someone who isn't Mr. Schuester."

"Yeah, someone who's a jerk."

She notices he is getting defensive and she doesn't like it. "Why is this such a big deal to you?"

"Because you're like...taking his side," he argues. Now he's positively glaring at her.

She takes in a deep breath as the anger begins to build inside her as well. "His _side_? Rachel's going to sing too you know."

"That's different; she's Rachel and she like lives for solos. You're my girlfriend and you're supposed to have my back."

She raises both her eyebrows and looks at him incredulously. She wants to hit him. Really, really hard. "Oh like you had mine during prom?" She knows she's making the situation worse by baiting him, but she can't – won't – stop herself.

"Quinn I said I was sorry about that, like a million times, what more do you want me to do?" he asks throwing up his arms.

"I don't know, maybe take my _side_ for once and not hers because like you said _I'm_ your girlfriend," she says hatefully, raising her voice to match his.

"This isn't even about Rachel!"

"Like hell it isn't." She swivels back around to face her dressing table. "You know, I hope she picks Jesse – at least he knows what he wants," she says softly, slowly regaining control of her voice.

"Whatever. I'll see you later when you're not being all Scary Quinn." He gets up and leaves, slamming the door to her bedroom.

* * *

*

The New Directions are terrible. Even a whole year hasn't been enough time for them to improve. They still can't dance. Apparently giving solos to the best singer 'isn't fair' and turns everyone in the club into whining children so now Jesse has to sit through audition after audition, each one only serving to justify his opinion that they still can't sing either. Their so called 'male lead' is an insult to performance in general but, by nothing short of a miracle, he's not got the balls to sing in front of a real judge of talent.

When Jesse's pen runs out of ink (so much for shading in his cat) and he is forced to actually listen to Santana, halfway through he's prepared to jam it into his ears and tear his own eardrums. But after being asked to leave UCLA, this is the closest he is going to get to redeeming himself and getting his parents off his back about going to college in Ohio so whatever, he can deal. If only he could've learnt to sleep with his eyes open – why wasn't there a college class about that? He would've at least considered showing up.

He tells Santana what her performance lacks and she swears she'll 'go all Lima Heights adjacent' on him. Much like the New Directions, who never really take any new directions, Santana too is in limbo, using the same threats he's heard from her countless times before. It's woeful.

There's a slight pause as Kurt sets up and Jesse sees Schuester rapidly scribbling something he must deem acceptable about the Latina. "This is a waste of your time and mine _and_ theirs," says Jesse, deciding to just cut to the chase.

The older man's jaw clenches and he continues writing. "Look Jesse, I know it's not the Vocal Adrenaline way but this is how we do things here and it's worked for us before."

"Sorry, but you don't have the hardware to prove that."

"Well – that was last year, now we're stronger and our wins at Sectionals and Regionals are proof enough."

The slight hesitation is enough to tell Jesse that as much as Schuester tries to deny it, he agrees with him.

Kurt clears his throat, interrupting their conversation. He gets two notes in before Jesse stops bothering to even pretend like he's paying attention. Kurt will never be able to sing on a real stage because of the simple fact that no one writes or was ever going to write something for his voice. So really, this is an even bigger lost cause.

The only thing that's not predictable about Hummel is that after getting his feedback (where Jesse promptly tells him exactly what he thinks) he doesn't stomp his foot or slap him.

Jesse rounds on Mr. Schuester again as Mercedes drags her way through another clichéd and lacklustre song choice. "Sectionals are child's play and might I remind you that a tie is not a win. At Nationals, Rachel is the only one who even stands a chance."

"I know Rachel is talented and of course she will perform. But we're a family and there are no favourite children."

Jesse resists the urge to laugh. The idea that any of these people actually care about each other is delusion even for Schuester's standards but he decides to play along anyway. "That's good because when you lose, and you _will_ lose, you can all hold hands and offer each other words of comfort."

He sinks back in his chair as Mercedes walks, no – plods – off stage. He's kind of mildly interested in hearing what Quinn has been hiding from him because, as much as he refuses to admit it, something about her intrigues him. He's never heard her sing a solo before and doubts that her voice is anything more than subpar but she'd break the dismal monotony of the day and at least her insults would go beyond telling him to get a new haircut. Perhaps he'd call her _Quinnie_ just to push her buttons and then take credit for coaxing out a marginally better performance.

"Okay looks like we're almost done here, Rachel's up last," says Mr. Schuester as he stretches out his arms.

Jesse frowns in confusion. "Are you sure?"

"There were only four people on the signup sheet this morning." He hands Jesse the clipboard and it confirms there are in fact only four names.

He pushes all his thoughts out of his mind when he sees Rachel walk on stage looking right at him. The other reason he has endured this most unpleasant of tortures. He gives her a confident smile, knowing without doubt that she will get the solo. He'll make sure of it. When she tells him that she's not singing to anyone in particular, he still knows she is going to be fantastic - even if it does get that little bit harder for him to keep smiling. But he's a good enough actor to hide that and truthfully, he hadn't expected her to start talking to him so quickly after the egging anyway; he supposes that with girls like Rachel, who need to be indulged, things take time. As she prepares to sing, he leans over to Schuester.

"You know, I think you're kind of right about being a family – I understand that parents feel the need to live vicariously through their children in order gloss over their own inadequacies."


	5. Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit Chapter 5

Quinn enters the hotel room she is sharing with Santana and Brittany. Through the thin walls, she can still make out her friend cursing in Spanish. This had been going on for hours; she'd eventually get Santana to calm down (without any help) and then either Finn or Rachel would just have to say something back, starting the whole thing all over again. Her arms are sore, stilettos have been jammed into her feet and she's pretty sure she has a few scratches but she draws the line at elbows being rammed into her chest.

She starts stuffing clothes into her bag, eager to finish packing before her roommates come back. This trip, in every single sense, has been a disaster. She knows she should have just told on Rachel and Kurt for sneaking out, it would have saved everyone a hell of a lot of trouble. When she finally zips up her suitcase, she strolls over to the window of her room to draw the curtains. Outside the cars are zooming down the road, people are bustling along the sidewalk and everywhere she looks she can see bright lights. It stirs something within her. Who gives Rachel the permission to be the only one destined for New York? With a sudden fervour Quinn strides over to her suitcase and sifts through the clothes she has just folded and packed. She frowns; everything she owns makes her look like a teenaged Midwest girl and that just won't do.

Santana is still yelling.

If she's going to carry out her plan, she needs to do it quickly before her newly found courage (recklessness) runs out. Quinn opens Santana's bag and inside she finds the more provocative clothes that her friend always wears to school. She picks out a skin-tight printed t-shirt making sure not to disturb too many clothes. She pairs the t-shirt with her own jeans and Santana's black knee high boots, before purposely doing her makeup to make herself look older. She takes one final look in the mirror, running a hand through her now shorter hair. With any luck no one will realise she has left.

Quinn grabs her purse and room key card and sneaks down the hallway as fast as she can. Suddenly she hears a door opening and she freezes; if Mr. Schuester sees her he'll realise what she's up to and she'll be confined to her room until they leave for their flight the next morning. She hears more yelling and the door slams shut, thankfully whoever it is doesn't come out. She hasn't decided where she's going or what she will do; all she knows is that if she's going to end up a Lima loser anyway, _she_ wants to be the one getting to see Manhattan by night. Before Rachel.

When the elevator reaches the lobby she quickly heads for the main entrance, hoping that the receptionist doesn't recognise her. As she steps out of the hotel, the breeze whips her hair and she tries to take in her surroundings. A lot of things look very different at night and Quinn's not really sure where she wants to go first or how she'll get there. The thought of using the subway alone at night makes her rather uncomfortable. She's rudely brought out of her thoughts when a large woman bumps into her, not even stopping to apologise as she continues past.

The real New York.

The people in front of her walk in a continuous stream of human traffic and every time she attempts to step in, someone gives her a dirty look and goes on their way. She can't help but feel out of her depth and well, perhaps this hasn't been the best of ideas. At least she's made it outside the hotel and that has to count for something.

"Well...aren't you the little rebel?"

She jumps and spins around, bumping into the heavy glass doors just as she gets a glimpse of his curls. "God you ass, you scared me half to death," she says, embarrassed that he's actually managed to catch her off guard.

"Good to know I haven't lost my touch." Jesse's dressed in a black t-shirt with rolled up sleeves, dark jeans and the cocky bastard smirk to match.

"Why are you here?" she asks with a sigh, rubbing her stinging elbow.

"I came to see Rachel."

She rolls her eyes; yet again she has come full circle. Apparently it _is_ too much to ask to go five minutes without being reminded of the brunette diva. "How did you know where to find her anyway?"

"Let's be honest she's never been good at keeping secrets – do you think she could resist posting every little detail on Facebook?" he asks casually. "The better question is...what are _you_ doing out here? If I remember correctly you are on a school trip –"

She shrugs in response and breaks eye contact.

"– and these kinds of trips normally come with a curfew. It's 10 o'clock at night Quinn..." He looks at her, eyes teasingly staring her down.

"I just came out for some fresh air."

"Right. And I presume you always dress like this." He looks her up and down and she can't help but feel a little self-conscious. " _Not_ that I'm complaining of course – it suits you. Even the hair."

Subconsciously her hand goes up to her hair and she's strangely upset that it only reaches her jaw line now. "It was Santana's idea; it's supposed to make me feel better," she says flatly.

"How's that working out?"

"Not great. Maybe it takes a while to kick in," she deadpans.

She hears him chuckle softly. "Well, I wouldn't be able to do it."

"Not even for a role on Broadway?"

"Not even if it had the combined effect of winning four National titles – at once."

"Seriously, that's your point of reference?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

He ignores her remark and just keeps talking. "Besides how many bald young men do you think are successful in theatre? This isn't Hollywood," he scoffs disdainfully. "But really, what are you doing out so late?"

"I came out here because I thought – if there was one less person stopping Santana from mauling Finn and Rachel, she might actually succeed." A wry smile crosses her face.

"Looks like I just can't get a straight answer from you," he says, a hint of a smile still on his lips.

"It's worked for me before." She defiantly holds his gaze.

"That makes two of us." He grins back at her before looking into the distance. "Listen...come with me."

"What?"

"You and me, we'll paint the town," he drawls, winking at her.

"And all that jazz?" She gives him an unimpressed look and he looks marginally amused that she's just made a theatre reference. So some of Rachel's mindless rambling has seeped through. Whatever. "I don't think so. I need to go back upstairs. Brittany may not notice that I'm gone, but the others will and they'll tell Mr. Schue."

"Are you afraid?"

"No." If he's trying to challenge her, and she's pretty sure he is, she's not going to back down that easily. "I just don't trust you."

He lets out a short, sharp laugh. "Come on Fabray, you've already made it out this far. Besides you turned down my offer last time, look how that turned out."

She looks at him through narrow eyes, trying to think of a way of stopping him from getting what he wants. "If we go back inside, I can tell you what room Rachel's in _and_ I'll protect you from Santana," she offers smiling playfully.

"As _tempting_ as that sounds..." He rolls his eyes; he is getting far too good at reading her for her own comfort. "I've changed my mind; I want to see New York – with or without you. But it is in your best interest to join me."

She takes a long look back at the lobby and thinks of her teammates stuck in their rooms.

* * *

*

Jesse's idea of 'painting the town' is strolling through the Theatre District, and she has no choice but to go along with it. However, unlike Kurt and Rachel, he doesn't go on extensively about the minutiae of every single theatre and every single play; Quinn can't help but think that maybe he too, if it's even possible, is a little bit in awe. After all, he's coming face to face with his dream and she wonders if some day she'll find something she wants just as badly. Perhaps he doesn't feel the need to justify anything to her – the way his eyes light up as they walk past billboards of Wicked, Hair and Phantom tells her everything about how much he wants _all_ of it, more than the divas' guided tour ever could.

He only speaks every now and then, and somehow she feels comfortable walking next to him in relative silence. Because Jesse knows so little about her, she isn't obliged to behave in a certain way – she doesn't have to be the good student, the perfect Fabray daughter, the caring girlfriend or any other of the roles she often assumes when interacting with people.

Quinn is positive that they've passed the same diner at least twice before but Jesse either doesn't care or doesn't want to admit they're going in circles. Nevertheless she keeps walking, taking in the feeling of being in a real city, far away from strangling cesspool that is Lima.

"Hey about time you guys got here," says a female voice.

"Excuse me?" Quinn asks now staring at the red haired girl who has approached them. She looks to be in her early twenties and Quinn can smell the alcohol on her breath.

"Charlie's waiting; mind you everyone's already got a head start, especially Peter. We all bet him he couldn't try every shot on the menu without getting shitfaced," she laughs, staggering a little.

"I'm sorry you must be confu..."

"Lead the way," says Jesse smoothly as ever, cutting Quinn off. The woman turns around and begins walking towards the nearby bar.

"What, are you crazy? We can't just crash some bar," she whispers, but he is already walking briskly in front of her. "What if they get raided? Just because you're not in high school doesn't make you legal Jesse." She's practically jogging trying to keep up with him.

"You make valid points Quinn, but -" he turns around abruptly and she almost bumps into him, "- free drinks." He looks down at her expectantly, mischief dancing in his eyes. She opens her mouth to argue again but he grabs her hand and strides into the bar.


	6. Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit Chapter 6

When random redhead girl had said everyone had a head start, she hadn't been kidding.

The bar is packed and the music is blaring; as Quinn glances at all the strange faces in the room she involuntarily tightens her grip on Jesse's hand. A lot of people, including the redhead, are crowded around the bar and they seem to be cheering on a couple of men who are doing shots. Jesse manages to find an empty booth and allows her to sit down. "Jesse don't, you'll get carded. Look we're inside, we can just sit here -"

"Quinn, _trust_ me."

"The last time a guy said that to me, I ended up pregnant," she says dryly, keeping a firm grip on his hand.

"Well you're in luck; I don't sleep with drunks."

She opens her mouth to make a snide comment and suggest otherwise but her mind draws a blank – so she lets go of him and gives Jesse her best bitch smile. "Fine. You were our show choir consultant, which kind of makes you a staff member, which kind of makes you responsible for me. If we get in trouble - I'm blaming you."

"Me? I'm saying this whole thing was your idea. I can be very convincing." He winks and turns around to make his way over to the bar. Quinn closes her eyes and sighs, waiting for the moment the bouncer comes to show her to the door. When she opens them, Jesse is walking – no – strutting back to her, two beers in hand.

She grudgingly takes the bottle; his eyes are giving her such a haughty look, she almost wishes he was smirking instead.

* * *

*

"Admit it Fabray, this is fun," he says before taking a long swig of his beer.

"Yes, because getting drunk in some random dive bar with Jesse St. James is... _fun_."

"That's your opinion," he shrugs. As much as she hates to admit it, this is the most relaxed she's felt during the entire New York trip. There's no Finn to watch over, no Rachel to watch out for and no Kurt and Mercedes to watch her. It's wonderful. "And you're not drunk – I hope." He eyes her still half full bottle – he's already on his third. Quinn, on the other hand, figures Mr. Schuester will be less appreciative of her excuse for sneaking out if it comes out slurred. "Besides, I'll bet you you're having more fun than Rachel right now," he adds with a sly curve of his lips.

"Well obviously – she's with Finn." Quinn's eyes widen and Jesse lets out a sharp laugh as she realises that the snarky remark about her ex had in fact come from her. It feels familiar and more than that it feel _good_.

He relaxes into the seat and runs a hand through his hair. "How come you didn't audition that day?"

So he did notice.

"I...changed my mind," she says simply.

"Quinn, if you haven't already noticed – we are very much alike. Amongst other things, I too am good at playing it close to the chest. Of course it goes without saying that I can tell when I'm being lied to."

She levels his piercing gaze. "I am nothing like you," she says definitively, "and besides I heard about what you said to the others. It seems like I saved myself the trouble."

"You cannot improve without criticism and it's just ignorant to think otherwise," he shrugs.

"How did you get us these drinks anyway?" Yes, she changes the subject, whatever.

"God Quinn, it's called having an ID. This may be hard for you to believe, coming from Lima, but there's more to parties than just cheap mixers that taste like piss and sweaty teenagers' basements."

"I know that." She makes it a point to ingest the rest of her beer in one gulp. It goes straight to her head.

"Careful, I'd hate for you to get too ahead of yourself," he drawls with a smirk. "Anyway, back to why you didn't sing for me."

She rolls her eyes; clearly he isn't going to give up until she tells him. "Finn said he didn't want me 'taking your side.'"

"And you listened to him?"

"I...didn't want to lose him." It sounds even more stupid and pathetic when she says it aloud. And she hates herself for allowing Jesse to coax it out of her.

Jesse stops mid sip. "What I don't understand is why girls like you and Rachel, so beautiful and with so much potential, choose to settle for...that. McKinley is just fucked up."

For a moment Quinn's brain freezes; she's caught between being annoyed at the fact that he has grouped her and Rachel together and being surprised that Jesse St. James thinks she has potential. It really shouldn't be news to her, of course she has potential. For what exactly? Well, she's working on it and that's good enough for now. "Finn's popular, sweet and goofy in a cute way," she says regaining her voice.

"And these are uh – _qualities_ you value?"

She gives him a sideways glance. "Okay you've made your point. But I could ask you the same thing about Rachel. Sure she's talented and I get that you're _somehow_ attracted to that – but even you can't deny it was bitch move to get you to come all the way out here and then stick her tongue down Finn's throat, right in front of you."

His facial expression doesn't change even though she's being overly graphic just to spite him. "I agree that it was highly unprofessional and the Rachel I knew would never pull a stunt like that, especially when the stakes were that high. I don't claim to understand it. At least you had your back to the audience and weren't subjected to the display...some things just can't be...unseen," he says, the bitterness in his voice becomes just a little bit more tangible.

She smiles sardonically and drinks again. "I don't think the judges would've appreciated Santana vomiting mid performance."

"I beg to differ. She would've been...channelling the audience's emotions," he says making a gesture with his hands, "you guys might've placed eleventh."

Quinn covers her face as she laughs and she can hear Jesse joining along (it's one of the nicer sounds she's heard in a while) – the alcohol has to be kicking into gear. "I get it, you had it worse – but you can't talk to me about Finn without answering my question – _why_ are you still in love with Rachel?"

Yes it's definitely the alcohol.

"Who says –"

"I don't care how much cheating you do," she interrupts, "UCLA is a pretty hard place to get it into, especially with a scholarship – I have a hard time believing you flunked out because you're dumb."

The smile never leaves his face but for a second she sees something flicker in his eyes as he stares back at her. He takes a long sip of his beer and exhales loudly. "For the record, she didn't _make_ me come here."

She makes a face.

He shrugs.

"Finn dumped me at a funeral," she says casually, as though they're discussing something as trivial as the weather. It's been on her mind and she figures she may as well tell Jesse about it, if only for the reason that he hates Finn and is likely to insult him in several creative ways. "And it wasn't even the it's-not-you-it's-me routine – no he took something that a woman wrote for her sister's _eulogy_ and turned it into a breakup line." She grits her teeth together as the image of the two of them in the car flashes vividly in her mind. She still hates herself for crying in front of him. For being weak in front of a boy who couldn't give two shits about her.

Jesse looks at her and he tilts his head in a way that she's not familiar with, almost as though he's analysing her. The small gesture makes her a little uncomfortable. "That must have been incredibly humiliating for you," he muses.

"No here's the humiliating part – I told him I'd stay with him while he worked through his obsession with her. Then he told me I have no feelings." She takes a particularly long swig of beer and loudly smacks her lips together. "Now that's just not true because you know what, I feel like taking his _tether_ and choking him with it." She doesn't bother explaining Finn's ridiculous plagiarised metaphor because even thinking about it makes her feel like throwing up. "I feel like bashing Rachel's head in until she really sees stars. I feel like telling my mother to shove a couple more pills down her throat and just end it already." Quinn closes her eyes and holds her head in her hands as her temple begins to throb." If he's stunned by her violent thoughts, he doesn't let on and simply continues drinking. "You were right, going to that funeral was a stupid idea," she says darkly. When she looks at him again, she sees that he's giving her a weak smile. It's only then that she realises that as much as she's hurting from Finn leaving her, Jesse – even if he is less than straightforward and doesn't show it – is hurting just as badly, if not more. At least she didn't waste her money on plane tickets. When she meets his gaze again she returns a small smile that silently acknowledges the mutual crapshoot of a year they've had.

"So –" he presses a finger to his lips "– let me get this straight. You were head cheerleader, dating the school quarterback and president of the celibacy club."

"Pretty much."

"Then you cheated on him with his best friend, got pregnant on your first time, slapped the very girl that your now ex-boyfriend claims to love again _and_ he broke up with you at a funeral."

She raises an eyebrow in annoyance. "If you're trying to make a point St. James, get there faster."

A grin crosses his features. "Give it a couple more years Quinn and you could be the subject of a very successful _off_ -off-Broadway musical."

Jerk.

She resists the urge to just be a full-on bitch to him because for the first time in a long time, she's having an honest conversation with someone and she's a little thankful that he's the one changing the subject. She goes with it. "You forgot the part where my own father kicked me out of the house and set the timer on the microwave as I packed."

Jesse raises his eyebrows and Quinn laughs with him (if she doesn't she's pretty sure she'll start crying) as she thinks about the calamity that the last two years of her life have been. "Of course I could say the same for you," she begins because well, being a little bitchy is fun and Jesse is still kind of a dick. "Dashing performer, shoo-in to take Broadway by storm, flunks out of college and comes back cross-country for the girl he's so _desperately_ in love with. You take her to junior prom, get into a public fight with her jaded ex and when you fly out to New York to support her, she's up there in bright lights –" she makes a purposely over the top gesture with both hands as though there's a stage in front of her "– kissing said ex. I don't think you should complain though; at least _your_ fight was actually set to music."

His jaw drops and he blinks a few times, the look on his face is just hilarious – she knows that he hadn't been expecting her to say that. She laughs again – he's actually speechless and she is all kinds of smug about it. "Naturally _my_ story is a good story," he says and she can tell he's trying to put his show face back on (but failing because the corners of his lips are twitching), "appropriately dramatic. A little heavy on the bathos maybe, but you're right – I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I'm sure you wouldn't."

"I don't judge you though," he says suddenly, the serious tone back in his voice, "for any of it."

Quinn, still laughing, raises a hand to her chest and gasps in mock surprise. "Jesse St. James – passing up such a golden opportunity?"

"Shocking I know," he says with a wry smile before draining the last of the beer from the bottle, "I just wanted you to know that."

Suddenly nothing's funny anymore and she awkwardly nods before busying herself with tracing the neck of her bottle with her finger. For the first time that night she begins to feel embarrassed; she would never have joked about herself like that with _anyone_ else and there's nothing to stop Jesse from using all of it against her sometime in the future. She knows he's a good actor and the fact that he's already gotten so much out of her is really quite frightening.

"Pete's on his tenth shot – a round of Jager bombs on him!" yells out one of the guys at the bar and everybody starts to cheer. 'Pete' is sitting (swaying) at the bar, looking like he's one drink away from blacking out. Soon two large glasses filled with a golden drink are placed on their table along with two smaller dark shot glasses that contain what she thinks is alcohol.

"What is this?" Quinn asks.

Jesse grimaces as she inspects her two glasses. "It's a shot; you drop this –" he explains picking up the dark shot glass "– into the Red Bull and drink up."

Huh.

Without thinking twice Quinn drops the shot glass into the larger glass, squeezes her eyes shut and chugs, waiting for the alcohol to burn her throat. It never does – in fact it goes down smooth, almost surprisingly so. When she opens her eyes, she is instantly buzzed; Jesse watches her with a mixture of alarm and amusement. "Your turn."

He chuckles. "No thanks, I'd like to make it back to my hotel room tonight."

"Your loss," she shrugs, pulling his glasses towards her. "My gain."


	7. Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit Chapter 7

Her head is swimming; she's never gotten rid of Angry Drunk Quinn this fast before. She can't remember how many shots she's had (she's pretty sure Jesse gave her a few extra) and now she's finding it extremely difficult to focus on her surroundings. "We should get a cab," says Jesse as he looks down either end of the street.

"Why?" she asks drawing out the word into a whine. "We walked here."

"Yes Quinn, but standing up wasn't a problem then."

She spins around to look at him. "I feel like I can run a mile. You know I've never really understood why people like Red Bull so much. Now I totally get it – it gives you _wings_."

"That I'll agree with," he laughs ,"during the lead up to Nationals, Shelby made sure we consumed a cocktail of Red Bull and coffee round the clock. She was kind enough to make it for us herself you know, mostly because we were all on IVs, but also because the proportion of each drink had to be incredibly precise. Too much Red Bull and your heart could stop mid solo; too much coffee and you'd constantly be running to the bathroom between dance numbers. Thrilling stuff really."

"Whatever," she slurs, waving her hand dismissively, "you haven't tried the Sue Sylvester Master Cleanse – guaranteed to make you lose ten pounds and your soul in one week."

He rolls his eyes and drapes an arm around her shoulder; she's not entirely comfortable with it and though her first instinct is to push him away, she decides against it. "Listen, we'll walk until we find a taxi stand okay," he says, guiding her through the now thinner crowd of people.

"Okay," she nods heavily, "because I think I'm drunk."

"You _think_ you're drunk?" he asks, wearing an amused grin.

It's true though. She has never felt like this before; so maybe she is drunk, she can tell that much, but she feels so awake at the same time that it makes her forget she's drunk. Jesse, having stuck to beer, seems to be slightly more sober and is doing the best he can to stop her from swaying too much. The last thing they need is for a policeman to get suspicious. As they walk they talk more, mostly about their exes' _many_ faults and at one point Quinn's pretty sure she mentions something about the rumour that Finn prayed to a sandwich god in hopes of getting to second base.

Jesse laughs about this for almost an entire block.

* * *

*

"What else is on your mind Quinn?" asks Jesse as they keep walking.

She looks up at him and chews on her bottom lip to stop herself from grinning. "It's a secret."

If it was possible for Jesse's ears to prick up, they absolutely would have because she can see he's beyond intrigued by her words. "Tell me," he says, eyes lighting up. She shakes her head and looks away. She's been a tease for most of her life and she's not above using it to screw with him. "I'll trade you, secret for secret," he says, raising both eyebrows suggestively.

Now it's her turn to be interested and she's wondering what exactly he's willing to tell her. Something embarrassing about Rachel? Or even better, something embarrassing about himself? Her mind races to try and actually come up with something that could pass as her own secret. "Okay," she leans in a little closer so she can whisper, "when you egged Rachel I wasn't _that_ upset."

"Then what was your reason for being so hostile?" he asks, smirking slightly.

"Because I had to clean up all that damn toilet paper."

* * *

*

He finally manages to hail a cab and when he stuffs her in, she promptly slumps against the window, finally feeling the alcohol as the effects of the Red Bull wear out. She stares out of the cab and everything is a bright blur that makes her increasingly nauseous so she turns to face him instead. His brow is furrowed and he seems to be deep in thought; she wonders if he's thinking about Rachel. After all he had intended to see her before he met Quinn. She leans her head back in the seat and closes her eyes to stop the spinning.

"Do you think it's bad that _Santana_ took the whole kiss thing worse than I did?" she asks, eyes still shut.

"No."

Quinn opens her eyes to look at Jesse but he's turned away from her, head leaning on the glass of the window. She must have some kind of compulsive urge to be miserable because really, there's no reason for her to bring that up and ruin the night. Her mood takes a turn for the worse and Angry Drunk Quinn comes back in full force when her thoughts drift to Finn. She had been so close to regaining _everything_ at the start of the year, she'd stuck to the plan and then just like that, she'd given it all up.

She'd broken up with Puck as her first step; even though he had said he loved her and they fought a lot less over the summer, something about being around him made her think of the little baby girl she'd held that one night. It happened a little too often and – it was so much easier to cry over a boy.

Quinn had done everything right after that. She'd gotten her body back, literally fought her way back to the top of the Cheerios and started dating the newest popular guy at school – all whilst being on honor roll.

Sam, without doubt, is a great guy and more than anything she wishes she'd had more time – every morning when she'd put on his ring, she'd pray that it would be the day she fell in love with him because he was good to her and good for her. It would've been the smart thing to do. But it scared her, how much he loved her and well, what if one day he just...stopped...and realised he could do better than a cheating ex-babymama? And suddenly there was Finn, single, being a winning quarterback and telling her how he was 'proud' of her. Looking back, she wishes she hadn't set her goals so high at the start of the year; she hadn't intended to try and win Finn back, but when the possibility arose – that she could have him and pick up where they left off, completing disregarding those nine months, that she wouldn't have to think about Sam wanting to leaving _her_ – she couldn't resist.

Kissing Finn was comfortable. And familiar.

Quinn had _really_ tried with Finn. It's probably why everything hurts so much more this time around. Seeing Finn and Rachel made her bitter and angrier than ever before. She had no baby bump that she could talk to even if it couldn't hear her and her conversations with Finn never strayed beyond the 'safe' topics like copying homework, what was for dinner and whether or not he could touch her boobs. Anything else would inexplicably lead back to Rachel. And that always meant more fighting.

The worst part is that, apart from Santana, no one even cares that Finn and Rachel screwed up Nationals. When Quinn had made the Glist, Mr. Schuester was so angry because it 'hurt other people.' Clearly that kiss didn't because he didn't say one thing about it; if anything she knows that he felt pity because, obviously, it must have been so hard for Finn and Rachel to deny their feelings for an entire year whilst simultaneously fucking with everyone around them. Rachel takes Quinn's boyfriend _again_ and again _Rachel_ is the victim.

Quinn doesn't understand it. At all.

Her stomach lurches as the taxi stops, jolting her out of her thoughts – they've parked in front of the hotel. Jesse opens the door and she watches him take a few unsteady steps before he leans on the car to tell the driver to wait.

"Looks like someone's had too much St. James," she says, slurring his last name.

" _I've_ had too much?" He offers her a hand; Quinn takes it and follows him to the hotel entrance. "Do you need me to walk you up?" asks Jesse.

She shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair, thinking of what is the appropriate way to part with him. She'd certainly had a good time, even if the ride back had mostly been in silence, but somehow a simple 'thank you' seems a little lame. His blue eyes watch her intently and he looks as though he's about to say something more.

He doesn't.

"I wish I had danced with you at prom – Rachel's a moron." She doesn't know why she chooses to say it or if it'll even mean anything to him and what makes it worse is that her voice barely comes out as a whisper.

His eyes widen ever so slightly before their expression softens and he gives her a small smile. "Good night Quinn."

She feels his hand slip out of hers and suddenly she has the urge to ask "Good night or goodbye?"

He shrugs, the slight curve of his lips giving him an air of mystery (she's sure he's doing it on purpose), and turns around to get back into the car. Once she's inside the lobby, she sees the taxi drive away – she doesn't even know where he's going. She'd been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn't even asked about where he's staying or when he's going back to Ohio. _If_ he's going back to Ohio. And wait...he didn't even tell her his secret.

Ass.

Apart from the security guards and the receptionist, the lobby is empty and it takes all of Quinn's concentration to get into the elevator without swaying. It's a stroke of luck that she ends up outside the right room. Her body is ready to give out and she has a feeling it isn't picky about whether or not she gets to her bed first.

After about the tenth attempt (the first few consist of her card missing the slot completely), the door handle flashes green and her card is accepted. The lights are off and she sees a dark mass on one of the beds that looks like Santana. Or Brittany. Or Santana and Brittany. She can't tell.

* * *

*

Quinn awakes to the sounds of suitcases being zipped up. She opens her eyes to see what's going on and immediately regrets it; the bright sunlight only serves to make her throbbing head worse.

"Quinn you really should get up, Mr. Schue says we're leaving for the airport in an hour and I don't want you to miss the plane," says a voice she recognises as Brittany. She mumbles an answer and sits up to go to the bathroom. Somehow she doesn't have Santana's boots or t-shirt on anymore – she is only in her jeans and bra. She definitely has no memory of undressing. Her eyes feel sticky and when she looks in the mirror she groans, realising that what she had been dreading is true – she had passed out with her makeup still on.

After washing her face, brushing her teeth and grabbing the first t-shirt she can find, Quinn flops back on her bed and puts on her sunglasses. She should have splurged her mother's money on a new pair, because these ones are awful and barely keep the light out.

The door opens and Santana enters carrying trays of hotel toiletries and complimentary chocolates, biscuits and three-in-one coffee sachets. "Here stuff these in too Britt-Britt," she says, handing the blonde several bottles of shower gel and shampoo.

"I snuck some toast out for you Quinn," says Brittany as she sits on her bag, trying to close it with her favourite kitten pillow peeking out the side.

"Thanks but I don't think I could eat anything right now," Quinn replies shutting her eyes again; even the thought of food makes her feel ill. Seconds later she hears the door slam, causing a sudden spike in the intensity of her headache – when she looks up Santana is giving her a less than sincere smile.

Bitch.

It isn't like Santana doesn't borrow her things for extended periods of time before deciding that instead of 'borrow' she really means 'take' so whatever, she has no right to be pissed. Quinn is busy thanking the heavens that she had had the sense to pack last night when she hears Santana speak again. "Here take these," says the Latina before Quinn feels something smack her in the stomach. Suppressing the desire to throw up, her eyes flicker open painfully and she tries to inspect what exactly has been thrown at her.

Sunglasses.

"But Santana I already have –"

"Shut the fuck up and take them Q."

Not in the mood to argue, Quinn puts on them on without further discussion.

The lenses are darker.


	8. Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit Chapter 8

She's done with being hung up on Finn. Quinn knows he's not even close to being worth it anymore and they've barely said two words to each other since the whole kiss thing anyway. He'd made an attempt at an apology but she'd shot him down quickly and turned around and walked away. It'd be a lie. Clearly he's not really sorry because he's with Rachel. She's even done with amusing herself with interesting ways to kill the midget diva. (Mostly.) If the final glee club rehearsal of the year has told her anything, it's that every _single_ aspect of her life now involves either Finn or Rachel and like godforsaken zombies, no matter how many times she shoots them in the face, they just keep coming back. Finn she can understand, his skull is so thick it's probably bulletproof, but she honestly doesn't know how _Rachel_ manages it. Unless her nose somehow causes enough of a deflection. Either way, it has to end. Like right now.

Senior year is going to be about _her_ , and not them.

But before that she has the entire summer to get though and she has no intention of seeing anyone from McKinley for most of it. Sure Mr. Schue mentioned that they could meet up over the summer 'for fun' but school's over and Quinn's not going back. This of course doesn't include the fact that she's signed up for a couple of summer AP courses, but it's not as though she'll run into anyone from glee club there anyway.

She hasn't really given her night with Jesse, or what she can remember of it, much thought. Yes she now has his phone number (she doesn't recall ever asking him for it) but she doesn't have a good enough reason to call him. Part of her thinks that's exactly what he wants anyway. There's the other nagging part of her that keeps thinking of him though. The part of her that scrolls past his name every now and again. She's doing her best to ignore it – she's good with repression – then again, look how that turned out. In fact there was that one time last weekend where she had meant to call Brittany and accidentally dialled his number instead.

She'd hung up before the call could even be connected.

It's annoying and not to mention, confusing for her to deal with. With summer classes, college applications and SAT tests coming up, he should be the last thing on her mind. Quinn figures she'll just wait it out until Jesse decides to leave Lima for good. From what he'd said to her during their night in New York, it can't be much longer.

It's just as Judy is saying grace during dinner that she hears her phone ring; she almost drops it when she sees Jesse's name on the screen. At first Quinn decides to just let it ring, except that Jesse continues to call several times after and her mom gives her a look that tells her to either answer or get back to praying. She excuses herself to her room and finally picks up.

"Yes?" she asks, sounding a lot more sure of herself than she actually is.

"Quinn, it's been too long."

"Why are you calling me?" she asks, shutting her bedroom door and laying on her bed. So she goes straight to the point and is probably a little bitchier than she intends to be but...old habits die hard. That and he just got her two psalms worth of reading out loud. It's a ridiculous routine that her father had started and if Judy knew better, she would stop it. Neither Quinn nor her mother really should be reading those verses anyway. But they don't talk about much else and at least it fills time before the usual conversation about school and work.

"Well two weeks have passed since our little night out and you haven't called me." His tone is casual and light, as always, but she swears she hears a hint of an accusation. She really doesn't know why she feels a little guilty – she shouldn't.

"I haven't had a reason," she shrugs, trying to keep her voice as indifferent as possible.

"And now you don't need one. How've you been?"

She swallows and comes out with a stiff "Alright I guess." They've never really had to make small talk before, Finn and Rachel have always been the catalysts for their conversations, and she isn't entirely sure where this is going.

"I take it you're done with school?"

They talk about McKinley a little, it leads to them both criticising the place, him for its subpar stage lights, her for well, everything else. For a while, everything is normal again. She's beginning to think that the only way they can talk is if they're commenting on the faults of others. What that says about the kind of people they are, she doesn't want to know. It's only when he asks her to have coffee with him that it stops being easy and Quinn kind of hates herself for putting on the brakes and telling him no. It's not as though coffee actually translates into anything but she'd still be out, with a boy, and boys are not supposed to be a part of her summer. She'd already let Jesse in too far that night and to continue now would just be setting herself up for failure.

"Look Jesse," she says, shifting so that she's sitting up again. "That night was fun. A lot of fun. But that was New York and this is Lima and..." Her voice trails off as she struggles to come up with a good enough reason not to see him again.

"I always thought you were clever Quinn. Are you taking AP Geography?" he asks and she can practically hear the smirk in his voice. His tone's different too; unlike anything she's heard when he's spoken to her...he sounds more like he does when he's speaking to Finn.

Quinn takes in a deep breath to keep from snapping at him (she knows he's fishing for a reaction from her) and calmly says "It's not as if we're friends." It comes out a little harsher than she intends but she's not just going to sit there and take his passive-aggressive crap. She's smarter than that.

"You're right, we're not friends." There's a slight pause before he continues. "But I don't like thinking of you upstairs in your room hating the world all the time." Quinn's a little taken aback by his words and she bets he's being abrasive on purpose. But how can he just expect her to have coffee with him? She hasn't been out for coffee with a boy in well, forever. They'd probably go to the Lima Bean where of course, they'd see either Kurt or Mercedes or Santana and then the rumours would fly. She doesn't need that. She doesn't need anyone talking about how she's gunning for Rachel's leftovers. Quinn feels bad for turning him down but at the same time he's being an ass and fuck, it's stupid how one phone call has her so wound up. "What are your plans for the rest of the summer anyway?" he asks, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She's not going to let him on to the fact that he's causing her so much internal conflict. The best defence? Offence. "I'm doing something worthwhile with my time like you know, getting a job. A _real_ job."

And...Point to Miss Fabray.

She's pretty sure Jesse catches onto her not so subtle insinuation. He's hardly Finn. Nevertheless, he doesn't seem dissuaded in the slightest. "Good for you. And what is this job you speak of?"

"I'm going to work at the public library," she says, lifting her chin at the very mention of it. And yes, she is proud of it. It had taken a lot of convincing to get the head librarian to even consider hiring someone who had no experience, and while she isn't exactly going to be a proper librarian, it's better than nothing. More than that, it's a hell of a lot better than being a church camp counsellor. She'd done that last year, after getting rid of the baby fat, and while it reassured her of her faith, it also made her spend countless hours with children. Crying, homesick, tantrum throwing children. She'd had to focus _really_ hard on the whole faith part to cancel out the irony of the situation and at least at the library, she'll be getting paid.

"Interesting. You chose this because it's unlikely that anyone from McKinley will come in for a bit of 'summer reading' right?"

Technically yes. But she isn't about to tell him that.

Neither of them says anything for a good minute and she hears him take in a deep breath. When did she get so awkward when talking to boys? It's her that has people speechless, not the other way around. And why on earth does she feel like she owes him something? "Jesse –" She's interrupted by her mother knocking on the door and telling her dinner's getting cold and that it's inappropriate to just leave and shut herself in her room. "How much of that did you hear?" she asks him softly, wincing a little.

"Enough."

Her mother knocks again and Quinn tells her she'll be down soon. "I have to go Jesse."

"Yeah okay." He hangs up before she can say goodbye and she surprised by her own disappointment. She's pretty sure she's never been hung up on before. But at the end of the day, like they both agreed, they're not really friends. They're not really enemies either. She's sure of that.

After dinner, she checks her phone, just in case.

 _No recent calls._

Quinn stares at the ceiling for a whole hour, telling herself that the only reason she keeps checking her phone is to see what time it is and how many more hours there are before she has to get up.


	9. Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Return to Sender, Damaged in Transit**

First impressions are important. Quinn knows this better than anyone. It's why she'd tried out for the Cheerios straightaway during freshman year. It's why she always makes sure to get As in the first semester. It's also why she decides to show up for work at the library half an hour early. She knows she'll be working under Ellen, a librarian in her fifties, and from what Quinn had seen of her at the interview, apart from the woman's fondness for argyle, she seemed like a nice enough person.

"Follow me, I'll show you to the front desk." Ellen goes on to make small talk about the summer and Quinn responds politely, focusing more on her new surroundings. "It's so nice to have another young adult working with us, shows the rest of them that libraries aren't just for people who can't use the internet," says Ellen.

"Wait, I'm _another_ young adult?"

"Well yes. You see a couple of days after I hired you; I was approached by a young man who said he's always been interested in working here but never lived close enough. He started a few days ago."

No.

It can't be.

Just – no.

As Quinn turns the corner, she realises that in fact it's a yes. Jesse St. James is sitting right there, scanning a few books and despite herself, she gasps.

"Jesse, this is the girl I was telling you would be joining today. Quinn this is Jesse."

His eyes meet hers and the corners of his lips instantly turn upwards. "Quinn," he says standing up and extending his hand, "Nice to meet you."

She's pretty much in shock as she raises her hand for him to shake and of course, he's grinning the entire time. The feel of his skin against her own snaps her out of her daze though and it's then that she realises that instead of dumbstruck, she _should_ be really, really pissed at him.

She was here first.

"Now Quinn, Jesse has some previous experience with libraries and I'm sure he'd be happy to help if you have any difficulties," says Ellen. Jesse nods sagely and if it was possible, Quinn's pretty sure her body would have burst into flames by now. Ellen continues talking and Quinn is too busy staring at him to comprehend what the older woman is saying. "If he can't, then just dial 5 on the phone and I'll come over." With that Ellen turns and makes her way upstairs, leaving Jesse and Quinn alone.

Quinn's not really sure what to say – their last conversation had ended on less than good terms but Jesse just smiles up at her, patting the chair next to him. It makes her face heat up and she suddenly can't bring herself to accuse him of stealing her idea. Clearly she's not going to get a break from all the confusion any time soon.

"Fancy seeing you here Quinn," he says without looking at her, focusing instead on a pile of returned books in front of him.

"Yeah. Some coincidence," she says sarcastically. "Why?" She's asking more out of curiosity than anything else; she needs to know why he's so keen on spending so much time with her.

He just shrugs.

* * *

*

As the days go by, Quinn begins to realise that things aren't exactly okay between them. Sure Jesse is just as casual as ever but for how much he normally talks, he never says more than two sentences to her at a time now. It also becomes painfully obvious that he has no interest whatsoever in working at a library – he develops the inane ability to blame her for when things go wrong. When the alarms go off because he forgets to properly check out books for a class of junior school kids, Quinn finds herself dealing with crying children, an angry summer school teacher and an annoyed Ellen all at once. It feels like he's giving her the cold shoulder without even really trying. She hates it. Everything about him is so confusing for her – most of all why she's so concerned that he's annoyed with her, because really it shouldn't matter at all.

One day she just cannot take it anymore.

"Quinn, I know you are still new here but you need to rescan all of the books that are returned _before_ they get shelved," says Ellen, almost glaring at Quinn over the top of her glasses. "Otherwise, the online catalogue and our records become redundant."

"I know that," replies Quinn, trying to keep an even tone and a passive face, "but that's Jesse's job."

Ellen turns to Jesse and he immediately looks at her wide eyed. "You'll have to forgive me, you see Quinn –"

"No," Quinn cuts in, "you are not pinning this one on me. I was all the way over in the pre-K section; I'm not supposed to be on desk duty."

"Yes but you forgot to wear your cardigan today," he says smoothly, "I took one look at those shoulders and well, I could barely remember what time of day it was, let alone how to deal with overdue books."

* * *

*

"I can't believe you got us demoted to shelving," grits out Quinn, slamming a worn out volume of 'War and Peace' back into its place.

"Technically you got demoted to shelving. I'm doing you a favour by volunteering to help."

She turns to give Jesse her well practised ice queen stare and sees that he's leaning against the shelf, eyes fixed on her face. "Did I do something to you?" she asks as she rolls up the sleeves of her now permanent cardigan, because his behaviour is annoying her to no end and she might as well deal with it now.

"No."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?" He looks at her all innocent and she knows he's playing dumb on purpose.

"Oh my god, stop this!" She pretty much yells it and a lot of the readers stare up at them, clearly annoyed at having the quiet atmosphere being disturbed, by the staff no less. "I don't want these stupid games anymore Jesse, why are you here?" she asks, trying to keep her voice under control.

A small smirk graces his features. "You've been on my mind Quinn."

"Then save it for when you're home alone." She tries to cover up her little outburst by being mean; she's pretty sure it comes out more like flustered. "There's really no need for you to be here," she argues weakly. He looks even more amused now and this is ridiculous; she can't intimidate or outsmart Jesse like all the other boys she's been with and now she really has no idea what to do.

"Actually there is. You see I need the money and despite what my father says, I refuse to earn it writing names on coffee cups. Plus you set such a good example with your...self sufficiency, I couldn't help but follow," he says, giving her a one shouldered shrug before spinning on his heels and walking into the next aisle.

For how much of a tease Quinn has been since high school, she'd never even thought that she'd end up being the 'teasee.'

* * *

*

It's 2am at night when she _finally_ figures out why he's being so cold.

So the next morning, before the crowd of people get in, she corners him between two of the non-fiction shelves. "I'm only going to say this once so you better listen." The words escape her mouth before she can stop them but maybe it's not so bad, because she actually wants to sort this out. Jesse quirks an eyebrow and she takes it as a cue to continue. "I know that after all the time we've spent together I should be okay with getting coffee in Lima but I'm not and I can't explain why. I'm not sure _I_ know either. It doesn't mean I don't want to so...I'm sorry." She says it all without even taking a breath; she wants to believe that it's why the last two words come out particularly quiet.

Jesse takes a second and blinks before giving her a slight nod like he gets it. If anything, it makes her nerves worse thinking he understands something about her that even she doesn't. "So you want to make all of this a little more interesting?" he asks. She's confused and he must pick up on it because he elaborates. "I suggest we make shelving a contest. First person to put away all their books correctly wins."

She's not sure whether she should be annoyed that he's brushing over an apology that was really fucking hard for her to make or thankful he's not making a big deal out of it. But if _he_ can find it in himself to overlook drama, well she can too. "Fine. If I win, you look for a job somewhere else." She says it with a faint smile and it seems to work because he laughs a little and rolls his eyes.

"Suit yourself Fabray. I'll decide what I get after I win. And I will win."

"I wouldn't be so cocky at your next job interview St. James, you come don't come off very well." The tightness in her chest that she's been feeling around him eases up for the first time in weeks and as she watches Jesse divide up the letters of the alphabet between the two of them, she's grateful. He hands her a list of letters and she quickly scans it. "Wait, how come you get Q,U,X,Y and Z and I get letters like A,S and T? Do you know how many books start with 'the'?"

"No, but after this I'm sure you'll be able to tell me."

* * *

*

She loses by an entire eight minutes.

Needless to say she's stuck with Jesse for the rest of the summer. Apart from his constant gloating and smug smirks, maybe it's not the worst thing in the world. Of course, there's the part of her that's dreading what he's going to ask for in return but whenever she brings it up, he says he's still deciding so she's not going to push.

In fact now that she's on his good side again, Jesse shows her many ways to get away with pretending to work. Quinn knows she shouldn't be slacking but sometimes (especially when the kids from church camp come in) it's fun to just sit on the floor with him between the rows of dusty psychology books, talking about both everything and nothing.

When she thinks he's not looking, she sneaks a glance at him from out of the corner of her eye. His hair is a lot shorter now and she has the sudden urge to tease him about it, if only to wipe the ever-present grin off of his face. "So did you take Santana's advice too?" she asks, eyeing the stray curl that hangs over his forehead.

"No," he scoffs, "but if I did, I'd tell you she doesn't make for a very good life coach." He picks up 'A History of Madness' and begins to look through it. One thing that's different about Jesse is that he's so difficult to read and the smallest of his gestures, whilst seemingly insignificant probably aren't. "Clearly you've been taking advice from all the wrong people," he says, idly flipping a page.

"I don't need anyone's advice." She tries to keep her tone casual and she's still trying to figure out whether she likes or hates the fact that he's so blunt with her.

"Well then maybe _that's_ your problem." He puts the book back down and turns his whole body to fully focus on her. "Perhaps I can help."

She eyes him warily, noticing he's way too eager and she knows that look, she gets it all the time when she's plotting something."You want to help me? Okay. You can start with the dishes tonight," she replies with a sweet smile.

"I'd be happy to. It'd be the least I could do after your generous dinner invitation." Her smiles drops when he twists her words and he laughs a little, eyes falling shut as he does so. And wow, she's really not prepared for just how good he looks doing it; the fact that his face is so close to hers is not helping either. "Jokes aside Quinn, you need a new mentor – a _good_ one."

She's pretty sure she knows where he's going with this and honestly she should just stop him from continuing right now. "Who you?" she asks sceptically.

"I assure you, I come with excellent references."

She laughs out loud, despite the library's quiet policy because, _what?_

Yes she is a lot more comfortable around him now and maybe they can work their way up to actually having coffee sometime but if Jesse thinks he can just waltz in and start tinkering with her life like he did with Rachel's, he is beyond mistaken. She tells him so and he promptly goes into a lengthy explanation of how he'd be a 'good influence' based on the fact that he ruled Carmel for four years and wasn't slushied even once at McKinley.

It hardly counts.

* * *

*

"Whatever _grandma_. I'm not here to have my questions answered by you, now show me where Quinn Fabray is or I'll file a complaint about a little asbestos problem this library may be having. My dad's a doctor you know."

Quinn recognises that voice almost instantly and soon enough a fuming Ellen is storming towards her, telling her that two cheerleaders of questionable morals are waiting to see her. Sure enough when Quinn reaches the front desk, Santana and of course, Brittany are right there. "Hey Q, guess you really do work here now," says Santana with a grin.

"Yeah so?" Quinn folds her arms and levels the Latina's piercing gaze.

"So nothing. Brittany wants to borrow a few books. Isn't that right Britt-Britt?"

The blonde nods eagerly. "Yeah Quinn, can you help me find 'Freakonomics'?"

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Really? _That's_ what you want to read?"

"Oh it's not for me. It's for my cat. He's thinking of broadening his horizons by keeping up with today's economic climate."

Quinn just nods stiffly and after a quick search on the online catalogue shows Brittany the aisle where the book is located. "I can't _believe_ you're here to spy on me Santana," Quinn whispers as Brittany wanders off to check out the book.

"The fuck ever Q, we were on our way back from cheer camp and Brittany wanted a book so I brought her here. I don't see anything wrong with that."

"Oh sure, and you just happened to ask the librarian to see me."

"Well yeah, you're my friend," the Latina drawls, wrapping an arm around Quinn's waist, "and I figured you could get things done a little faster for us. Also Britt and I need to sign up for a library card and yeah, I'm sure you know there's a registration fee. It'd be nice if that went away."

Quinn rolls her eyes and removes the girl's arm, knowing that by entering Santana's name into the system and giving her a pass to walk into the library whenever, she's pretty much signing her own death warrant.

Just as the cards are printing, Jesse walks in dumping a few books in front of her. "I still haven't thought about what I want from you Fabray," he says with a smirk, before taking a seat behind the desk. Quinn's not sure why she freezes but the entire time she watches Santana; an almost murderous grin has spread across her friend's face and her eyes flick from Jesse to Quinn.

"Hi Jesse," says Brittany, giving him a small wave.

It's only then that he seems to realise who's actually standing in front of him and he smiles back at the bubbly blonde. "Brittany, nice to see you again. How've you been?"

"Awesome."

"And what about Lord Tubbington?" he asks with a pleasant smile. Jesse couldn't remember the names of most _people_ , since when did he start paying attention to things about cats?

Jesse and Brittany go into an in depth conversation; Quinn's pretty sure she hears him throw in a few flirtatious double entendres but she can't focus on them because as they speak Santana's leaning in closer to her.

"So it's true, you are here with St. Hairspray," she whispers, eyes lighting up.

"We work together. That's all."

"Sure. Just like Puck used to work with his cougars."

"He only did that because he wasn't satisfied with what he was getting from his actual relationship – with you."

Santana smiles and tilts her head. "I guess you're right Q. I mean he _did_ spend an entire semester fucking my _brains_ out when he was dating you."

Quinn wants to say that she wasn't aware Santana had brains to fuck out but she's at work and they're going to be seniors and well, it's kind of crazy that they still go at each other like this. Instead, she rolls her eyes and somewhat hesitantly hands over the two new library cards. "I knew it, you are here to spy."

"I'm stuck in Lima for the summer and since Finept and his troll make me want to barf, this is the only entertainment I got. Sue me."

"Whatever. Just don't start telling people things."

"As if you don't enjoy having everyone talking about you."

They're interrupted by Brittany bursting out laughing and suddenly Santana's glaring at Jesse and leading the other cheerleader out of the library in a hurry. When Jesse just shrugs, Quinn sees that Brittany's left her book so she rushes to catch up with them. She grabs Santana's wrist and turns her around. "We're not _together_ Santana," she says, keeping her gaze fixed on the Latina's face even as she hands over the book to Brittany.

"Not yet."


End file.
